


If Thedas Could Talk - A Collection

by FanOfManyFictions (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Angst, Cullen is adorable, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Skyhold, Smut, Solas is, Thedas, Tumblr Prompt, dorian is perfect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:51:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/FanOfManyFictions
Summary: A collection of prompts from Tumblr. Enjoy. Will be updated with the works as I go along. Read. Enjoy. Comment. Leave kudos.





	1. Invisible

Characters: Dorian and Scout Harding

Title: Invisible

***

“I do admire your fearlessness. It adds a shimmer to your eye.”

“Uh…Thanks.” 

“Now that I think about it, I have never really seen you in anything but your scout armor. Tell me, is there a woman under there who secretly likes frilly dresses and equally delicious frilly cakes?”

Scout Harding had been entertaining Dorian’s banter on their long walk to the Exalted Plains. Usually, she would already be there when the Inquisitor and her companions arrived; however, there was trouble ahead and the scouts under her command were having a difficult time with the increase in demon activity. No one ever really paid attention to her besides giving the report so she appreciated the opportunity for conversation.

“I’ve never really needed an occasion to wear a dress,” she said, her arms swinging purposefully at her sides, her bow and an arrow clutched one in each hand.

“Who needs an occasion, my dear. If you have the dress wear it whenever you like. I would personally enjoy seeing the look on the Herald’s face were he to see you at our next location outfitted in fine delicate fabrics.”

She scoffed. “The Inquisitor doesn’t notice me. No one notices me. I could be wearing Corypheus’ head on my wrist like a fine jewel and I’m sure everyone would still breeze right past me.”

Dorian stopped walking. He looked on at the scout, her eyes scanning the path ahead, her ears twitching slightly at every noise they picked up. She was a remarkable shot with a bow and arrow and an even more remarkable scout. Without her, they would have walked into much more dangerous situations. He never knew she felt so unseen.

“You think we don’t see you?”

“Yea. Not just because I’m short, though that probably has something to do with it. I’m a tool. A precision instrument wielded for the Inquisition’s uses. I am a scout. It’s my job and my duty, and I like doing it. Other than that, I don’t really matter.” She stopped a few paces ahead when she realized that he was no longer following.

“You are just as important as the rest of us. More important, since you typically stop things from killing us before we arrive. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Just doing my job. And, you’re welcome.”

They started walking again, but Dorian was now rife with questions about the scout. Perhaps because he was curious or perhaps because he wanted her to feel special. It did not matter either way because he was going to ask them.

“So, do you have your eye on anyone special? The Inquisition is full of men and women and wonderful hormones waiting to be taken advantage of.”

She laughed with a light snort at the end of each lull. “What does it matter. I just told you I’m practically invisible. Even if I did have eyes for someone, they would never see me.”

“Indulge me please, Scout Harding. I love knowing forbidden juicy details. It’s like air to my lungs. Forget this ‘not noticing you’ nonsense. If you could have any one of us Inquisitioners, who would it be.”

She ceased walking again, looking around for onlookers or listeners. Considering her confession of feeling unnoticed, the action was more for irony than anything else.

“The Commander,” she whispered, “I would jam an arrow up one million demon assholes just to get the chance to lick that scar.”

The shock was very evident on his face, and since he too harbored such feelings for the Commander, he could feel a little heat rising within him. “I think I must have misheard - care to repeat?”

Her laugh was heartier this time and she clutched her hands over her belly. “The look on your face,” she breathed between gasps.

“Ha, ha. Very funny. I was asking a serious question you know.”

“Oh, I know. And if I like someone, you’ll never know. And neither will they.”

“That’s a shame. Anyone would be lucky to have a little more Scout Harding in their lives.”

She kept walking and looking ahead, searching for signs of danger as she always did. She would never tell him that he made her blush and that, for one brief moment, she felt like the most important person in all of Thedas.


	2. Words Unwritten Words Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric and Cassandra. I know some people do not ship them, but I thought it fit the prompt.

Characters: Cassandra and Varric

Note: This is shorter than usual and I had to tweak the line a bit to fit the character. I hope it makes you happy anyway!

Title: Words Unwritten, Words Unsaid

***

“Are you hurt?” Her thick accent floated pleasantly and unexpectedly through the air. They had just fought off some stronger-than-usual demons while the Inquisitor closed a particularly difficult rift, and though her guard was strong and she was fine, she always checked on the others to make sure they were alright. She would never admit it was because she liked them. Especially not to the dwarf.

“I’ll be fine, Seeker. I’ve been hit by arrows before.” Varric was busy applying pressure to a large cut that parted the thick hairs across his sizeable forearm with a stream of red. It ripped through the leather of his jacket which was now tossed in the grass next to him. 

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, but her face was very bad at showing her concern. It didn’t bother Varric much.

“I enjoyed your last chapter,” she said timidly after a moment.

Varric kept his eyes on the still weeping wound. “Glad to hear it.”

“I was wondering how you plan to resolve the fight between lovers. They cannot simply give up on each other. They must not.” Her voice took on the girlishly high tone it tended to get when she spoke in the realm of romantic fantasy.

“They’re just too different. She’s too stubborn and headstrong. He’s more laid back. Goes along with whatever comes.”

“That should not matter. People’s differences can often bring them together. Just look at us…I mean the Inquisition.”

Varric stopped wrapping his arm and brought his eyes up at the sturdy woman. She was standing with her hands behind her back, shifting her weight on her feet, avoiding his gaze entirely. “What should I have them do. Fall into a garden of flowers and have wild, ravenous sex to make-up? That’s the problem with fans. They always think sex solves everything. It doesn’t.”

“Blasphemy! Sex does solve everything!” The seeker shouted, her lips curling into something that looked like a smile.

“A joke,” he chuckled, “from the sword wielding, shield bashing badass. Anymore jokes hiding under that armor.”

Her face became serious and red appeared on the skin of her cheeks just under her eyes. “Do not suggest at what is under my armor.”

Varric gave a mocking gasp. “Me, talk about you naked? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I hope it gets infected,” she sneered pointing her eyes at his wound. She turned and sauntered back in the direction of camp in the distance.

“I love you too,” he whispered after her.


	3. Stolen Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for WC on Tumblr: Dialogue: "I am sure I left the horse right here!"

“I am sure I left the horse right here!” Solas’ voice strained with frustration. 

“Then where is it?” Serrine gestured to the wooded area that was empty of life save the two of them. She promptly returned her hands to her hips and glared.

“Perhaps it got loose and ran off. It matters not. The more pressing matter is getting you back to camp and healed.” His eyes fell to her bandaged leg, her blood quickly soaking through. 

“The poultice has numbed the pain.”

“You are still hurt, vhenan.” He stepped forward, closing the space between them. He could still see her frustration but he knew it was not about the horse. It was about not being able to save the fresh Inquisition scout that foolishly stood between them and the demons pouring out of the rift. She was blaming herself.

“We better start walking,” she grumbled as she stubbornly started hobbling towards the dirt path in the distance.

Solas swiftly landed himself behind her and, without warning, gathered her in his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Carrying you.”

“I am capable of walking”

“Yes, and allowing your leg to bleed out on the forest floor is an excellent idea.”

She hissed at his sarcasm but soon enough she settled herself against his chest with her arms draped around his neck. It surprised her how easily he carried her, how light she felt in his arms. She had only ever briefly seen him without his tunic on and he was muscled but lean. His strength slightly surprised her. She wanted to close her eyes, to enjoy being wrapped up by him, but the sight of the scout being torn apart by the rage demon was too fresh in her mind. There was already so much death, so much sacrifice, and in that moment her heart could no longer bear it.

“It was not your fault,” Solas whispered. With her head against his chest she could hear the words as the rumbled gently through him.

“I’m the Inquisitor. I should save them all. If I can’t do that, then what good am I? What good is this mark? What is my purpose?” she sobbed, bitter tears rolling easily over the peaks of her cheeks.

Solas stopped. She thought his chest should have heaved with the difficulty of carrying her, but he breathed easily and his heart pumped in a steady drumming rhythm. 

“You feel as though they all look to you to save them.” It was a statement and Serrine saw that his eyes drifted. Like he was somehow speaking of himself. “You have become more than they could have ever hoped for. Ancient magic bound itself to you and instead of resisting or cowering, you embraced it. You move with grace, and there is a wisdom in your decisions that surpasses even that of your advisors.” His voice was low and quiet, kindness and adoration poured over each utterance. 

Solas knelt with Serrine still in his arms. Warm beams of green light emanated from his hands and played over the bandaged on her leg. She could feel the skin pulling together, creating a seam that was sure to scar. His nimble fingers moved quickly over the bandage until the blood soaked rags fell away from her now healed leg. Her mouth fell open in shock.

“I didn’t know you were a healer,” she said as he brushed his fingers over the closed wound.

“I am not. I was an apostate who needed to learn how to care for myself, lacking the ability to ask for assistance with such things.” He hated lying to her. It would be so easy to tell her that he posses magic of old that is more powerful than anything she has ever seen. To tell her who he was, who he is , and what he must become. The words had met his lips many times, only to be swallowed down and replaced by his poisonous half-truths. She was searching his face, her wide gray eyes moving quickly over his features to read him. 

Serrine moved one of her hands from behind his neck and traced her fingertips along his straight jaw. Before he could hold himself back, Solas pressed his lips to hers selfishly and hungrily, tasting the salt from the tears that landed there. Her body responded to him immediately. Her back arched, pushing her chest into him as their lips parted and tongues glided past searching for more. He fought against the urge to pull away, forcing himself to pull her into him. They remained there, fear and ecstasy charging the air around them. His better sense won out and he finally broke away averting his eyes so he would not see how hurt she looked, the way she always did when he retreated from her.

“We should get back. The others will be concerned, no doubt.” He lifted her with the same ease as he rose to his feet. 

They continued along the path in silence. Serrine wondered why he always kissed her so passionately and then tore himself away. His eyes focused and she could see his jaw clenched, the muscles twitching slightly. He made her feel better. He always did, whether it was using his stories about the fade to distract her troubled mind, or just sitting together reading in silence. Something about his presence calmed her.

He made her feel safe, much the same way a home would. She loved him, completely. It never seemed the right time to utter the words. She nuzzled her face in the fur-lined vest he was wearing over his tunic. She whispered the words gently against the fabric, hoping that his heart would hear her.


	4. In the Middle of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Solas can't sleep and while walking the grounds, sees someone breaking into Lavellan's room (with the intent to either kidnap or assassinate her in her sleep) how does he come to the rescue?

Sleep would not visit him that night. He tossed and turned vigorously in the bedroll laid out in the rotunda, the smell of the drying plaster heavy in the air. He opened his eyes and looked up at the drying wolf in the next of his fresco murals. For a moment, he considered using the wasted time to finish, but he could not create anything beautiful in his tired and frustrated state.

He stood wearily to his feet, his lean arms stretched high above him to stir his muscles. All of Skyhold was asleep at this hour, except for the guards and scouts. The usual hum of the bustling in the main hall no longer heard through his wooden door. Perhaps she is still awake. He scolded himself for the thought, but she often shared his troubles with sleep, which usually led to them falling asleep in each other’s arms. He loved the way she fit with him, their bodies joining like two perfectly sewn pieces of fabric. He pushed away his cruelty for lying to her, his body yearning for the sweet sleep he only seemed to experience nowadays with her.

The main hall was glowing in the multi-colored moonlight that shown through the stained-glass windows behind her throne. Her throne. If only she knew how much he worshiped her. How the glimmer in her gray eyes set his heart on fire. How the slightest brush of her fingers against his skin sent all reason from his head. How the fade seemed to pale in comparison to the joys he found being with her.

His pace across the stone floor was slow until he noticed that the door to her quarters stood ajar. She was not so careless to ever leave it this way. His feet moved quickly and silently over, nimble fingers reaching around the door and opening it just enough to let his body past. He looked up the wooden staircase to the second door, which also stood slightly ajar. Lowering himself he moved his feet carefully, finding the strongest parts of the structure so he would not draw any creaking sound. Through the door, it was easy to make it up the stairs.

A figure, large and harrowing stood over his sleeping love. Solas could sense no other magic besides his and Serrine’s, so it was safe to presume that the threatening figure was not a mage. Her head and torso were fully visible to him, and he could see that her breast lay bare, the sheets pulled back from them, and her hair glittering silver in the generous radiance that poured through the balcony doors. He watched as the dark figure reached a hand down to stroke her cheek.

“Shame, you’re so beautiful. My boss wants you dead.”

Solas reacted without thought, using winter’s grasp to chill the man still. Without sound Solas appeared before the man, his face twisted into a snarl.

“An unwise attempt,” he rebuked, pressing both palms to the man’s chest. The chill dissipated and the man was left convulsing under the electricity Solas was striking straight at his heart. Solas watched until the man’s eyes rolled back into his head and foam appeared on the sides of his lips. His full weight fell on Solas’ hands, causing him to stagger backward. Solas lowered the man to the ground, and stood again, his body trembling from the recent expense of his magic.

“Solas?” a sleep-heavy voice inquired from behind him.

Solas turned slowly to look at her, relieved to see that in her stirrings she adjusted the sheets over herself.

“Vhenan,” he said, forcing his voice to a whisper.

“What are you doing here?” she moaned still weighed down with sleep.

Solas moved to sit next to her on the bed. “I had trouble sleeping. I came to see if you were still awake. My apologies for the intrusion.” He did not see the purpose of worrying her over a neutralized threat.

Her hand reached out and brushed along the length of his outer arm. Looking back at her face again he saw that her eyes were now open.

“No need to apologize,” a tired smile thinned her full lips. “Lay here with me, maybe it will help.”

Lusting heat prickled the tips of his ears as he remembered her state beneath the sheets. “I do not think that would be wise.”

“Then,” she began, moving closer to him, “Be unwise.”

Solas was still aware of the man who lay dead just below them. He would need to take care of it, but her hand had snaked its way beneath his tunic and all reason was lost to him.

“Alright, vhenan, alright.”

He stretched himself out next to her above the sheets to keep his thoughts as chaste as possible. She drew closer to him, pushing her head under his arm until she rested comfortably against his chest. She helped to completely relax his body against the support of the mattress. His eyes closed and soon, they slept.

***

Serrine brushed her palm down the linen covering her down pillow and her eyes shot open. Her bleary vision searched for him, or any sign that he was there with her last night. She was alone, nothing but the sunrise bathing her in an orange glow. Sighing, she laid back remembering what it was like to be in his arms, naked beneath the sheets.

Solas was thankfully awake before dawn, with enough time to leave her sleeping and to remove the body from her chambers. He met the Commander as he exited the door.

“What in Maker’s name is that?” Cullen exclaimed as he looked at the large figure draped about the lean elf’s shoulders.

“An assassin that was prevented from murdering the Inquisitor,” Solas said effortlessly, unbothered by the weight he carried.

“Is she alright? What happened?”

“She was asleep and does not know of the incident. Considering that she has many other pressing matters to worry about, I thought it would be best not to trouble her with mention of this.” Solas gave the Commander a knowing look, which solicited a nod of understanding.

“I suppose,” Cullen started, the words catching in his throat. “I suppose she was fortunate to have you watching over her.”

Solas nodded in response and made his way to the dungeon, where he could easily dispose of the body over the crumbling stone to the mountains below.


	5. Love Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Skyhold Shenanigans - Sera pranking Dorian (I wanted to be challenged with a dialogue-heavy piece).

Dorian shifted nervously in front of the bookshelf.

“You sure it’s from King of the Elves down there?” Sera questioned, sitting cross-legged in his armchair.

“Yes, I’m sure. It says he wants to talk about Tevinter’s magical teachings over a glass of wine.”

“Wine isn’t a marriage proposal, right?”

“No, but Solas does not ask anyone to talk over wine. And the note started with, ‘I can’t help noticing your spectacular form during battles. I find myself more than a bit distracted.’”

“You’re right, that does sound like his fancy speaking.” Sera was working very hard to stifle the chuckle in her throat. Who knew that pretending to not know how to write, and pretending to have a crush on Dorian could turn into the most spectacular prank ever?

“Of course, he finds me irresistible. I find me irresistible. But he is very simply not my type.”

“Have a thing against elves?”  
“No, I have a thing against bald.”

Sera chortled loudly at Dorian’s last statement, releasing some of the pent-up laughter she had at watching him squirm.

“I should go down there and let him down easy. Tell him he should leave any fantasies for me as fantasies.”

“I agree, yea” Sera jested, her tone mockingly serious. “You should tell him to pine for you no longer.”

“Right. Well then, off to grace him with my presence.”

Sera could hardly contain herself as she watched Dorian descend the rounded stairs, clutching Solas’ note. Solas would have no idea what was going on and she could not wait to see the look on Dorian’s face when he realized what had happened. She would probably have to hide out from him for a week. She didn’t like prickly mages. Too many fireballs. But this was worth it.

She leaned eagerly over the balcony, looking down at Solas as he studied a few pieces of parchment laid out on his desk. Her heart was racing and the excitement was tingling in her chest. She jumped slightly when she heard the door open, and covered her mouth as she watched Dorian saunter to Solas’ desk.

“Dorian, to what do I owe the pleasure,” Solas said, his eyes remaining on the words in front of him.

“Am I early? I thought you would have already poured the wine. I was looking forward to the drink.”  
Solas stopped and looked up, a slight dip in his forehead indicating his confusion. “I am not sure what you are referring to.”

“Your letter of course. The alcohol would have made for a bit of pleasant conversation before the bad news.”

Sera could hardly contain herself.

“The truth is, though I admire your magical knowledge and I’m sure I could give some useful additions, I am not interested in using our musings over magic as a means of taking this friendship past friendship.”

“I am not sure if you were struck in the head, Dorian, but I have not now, nor will I ever be interested in your affections.” Solas’ tone was calm, but Sera could see his I’m-being-a-serious-elf face.

“Your note to me says otherwise. But I suppose denial is typical in the face of rejection. I am flattered. Just, uninterested,” Dorian continued with his typical air of confidence.

“I do not know what fantasies of yours led you to my quarters Dorian, but I can assure you, you are mistaken.”

“So, whose handwriting is this?” Dorian laid the note out before Solas, and if Solas had rolled his eyes any harder they would have popped out of his shiny bald head.

Sera’s faint giggle could be heard disappearing in the distance.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, my friend, but this seems to be the workings of a very mischievous plaideweave-clad elf girl. My handwriting, but she told me it was to be a note from her to you.”

Dorian’s face contorted sharply with anger. How could he be so foolish? His mind was already rife with ways to make her pay, but the embarrassment of the situation was slowly setting in.

“Do you have wine?” Dorian hissed through gritted teeth.

“Of course.” Solas smirked at Dorian’s reddened face. He went to a crate near the doorway and retrieved a green glass bottle.

“Good. I believe I will need a drink after all,” Dorian grumbled. “Never breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“A word of what?”


End file.
